Dead Island Riptide : Day by Day
by UnleashedZombie
Summary: Kendra Cattai is a survivor of the 'infected cannibalistic bastards' as she likes to call them, barges in Banoi and Palanai, and forcing her to stay secluded in a survivor camp on Henderson and listen to stories about a group of 'immune survivors'. Kendra can already see the camps being overrun, so she writes about her next 30 days trying to escape hell. (cuss words and gore)
1. Entry 1

Dead Island Riptide

'Day by Day'

Chapter 1

Day 1

I finally scored. I found a pencil to write with. Honestly, it's the second day being corralled in Henderson, and its filled to the brim with infected cannibalistic assholes. I should probably put my name down, in case I leave this behind if I escape, or die. I'm going to pretend I'm writing to someone, so I sound less insane, even I am not having anyone I know alive. My name is Kendra Cattai, I was born on March 15th, and I used to live on Banoi. That is, until those cannibalistic assholes as I like to call them, ruined my life. My home was overrun, and my one escape, my survival ended. I escaped Banoi, sure, but this bloody place isn't any better. They blew the only bridge connecting here to the other side of the island, and they decided to clean up this side as best as they could and set up camps around the coast. I was sent to this one. The camps were stocked for taking in at least half of Banoi, and obviously most of the natives here. Not long after my arrival here, I heard rumors, upon rumors about some 'immune group of survivors'. I called bullshit, and everyone here already hates me for it. I don't wish upon shooting stars or believe in fairy tales, and lying about meeting immune people to a plague is just leading people on. I get it, the kids need to smile, but the adults are about as naïve as the children! I'm 20, and I have more realism than the rest. I'm sorry, but no one is immune, or nobody would be monsters from a bloody b – class Hollywood horror movie. I'm becoming more anti-social because of these foolish hopes, and I hate to be Debbie downer, so I found an empty hut, and I claimed it. It's easier to write like this, anyway. Back to the people. There are still a ton of sick, bitten people, and they were all put in certain 'isolation' huts. People who volunteered to be medical help wear orange biohazard suits, and help sever limbs, even heads. I hear about the poor bastards turning, and the 'doctors' are never slow in cutting off their heads. It's obvious really, but those 'hospitals' as the other survivors sugar coat it, are getting emptier and emptier day by day. A good portion of the people in my camp are from the actual island. Palanai, or something. They said there was a shipwreck, and there are still a ton of survivors left out on the other side of the island. They even said those 'immune' survivors were in that shipwreck, and now they are on the other side of Palanai. I know the Military lost Banoi, and that no one is left. Some of the soldiers that fought the plague there for a short time say that the military was supposed to bring a nuke on Banoi. Then again, the soldiers are a little on the psycho side. After what they've seen though, I don't blame them. I wouldn't expect any less from those crazy bastards.

Thanks for reading. Not sure if i'll continue, but please if you like it, put it in a review so i know to put out more! :3


	2. Entry 2

Dead Island Riptide

'Day by Day'

Chapter 2

Day 2

So, it's day 2. I just got back from getting my food rations, and I remembered I still have to write. So, here I am. Today, I turned 21. Maybe you can tell from my sarcasm so early in that I'm not to gung-ho about that. If these damned islands weren't overrun, I could be having my first Mai Tai in the club, dancing to my favorite one hit wonder, Sam B. He was at Banoi when shit went down. I wonder if he was able to make it out in time. Maybe he flew out on helicopter. There is some bland party whiskey you could find in every stinkin' hotel around here, but I'm not really interested in drinking that. Anyways, last night however, I decided I could go listen to those bullshit story time camps the other survivors put up. You think there'd be a campfire? Nope. It's under a couple burning candles, on the porch of a volunteering hut leader. Fancy. Most of the stories were mainly those 'immune' survivors. Did I already mention how much bullshit it is? Four lucky, unexpected survivors, who can stand the sickness from these demons. I might've snickered at their stories, maybe I didn't. the point is, you could already tell the answer to that by now. A couple of the infected cannibalistic bastards stopped by after the story session ended, and the medical help took care of them with a few axes. When they burned the bodies I wanted to slap them, what if there are still a couple dozen zombies left here? That's still a lot of zombies. They could be those weird, mutated ones that blow up for god's sake. Just a couple of unsuspecting people and a couple hungry zombies could cause enough chaos for half the camp to be demolished. None of these people could protect themselves. I've been taking advantage of the little things I've been finding around camp. I started building advanced weapons. I finished one within a couple hours. It's a baseball bat and nails hammered into the top. It's gnarly, and dangerous as hell. It's probably the go to weapon so far. Yeah sure, these camps are well off, but like I said, no one here could be level headed and calm if there was an attack. There are so few pages left of my skimpy notebook. It's going to drive me crazy if I don't have paper. There is a small motel down the road from here, and they probably have a ton of those little notepads everywhere. I could go, but what lies between here and the motel? Maybe the dozen zombies are shuffling here already. I'm pretty sure after I use my last piece of paper, I'll go head out that night. I also need parts for my new weapon. It's going to have a saw blade at the top, and it will be able to turn on and off on command. Of course it'll all tie together on a baseball bat. You'd be surprised how abundant they are in camp. I'm actually breaking a big rule too. When they made these camps, they already had leaders and medical people. One of the rules is no crafting weapons without permission. I've done so many prototypes if they came into my hut and found my stash, they'd think I'm trying to murder everyone. Honestly, all I want is paper and a couple pencils. The parts to my weapons aren't going to keep my sanity like writing will.

Remember to leave a review so i know you're enjoying it!

:)


	3. Entry 3

Dead Island Riptide

'Day by Day'

Chapter 3

Day 3

Today feels different. Not in a good way, either. I woke up early this morning terrified, from a never receding nightmare. It just comes with the whole apocalypse package. The dream I had was about camp this time, and we got attacked in the middle of the night, and there was more zombies than we could've imagined. Everyone died, including me. I'm really worried if that's my mind warning me to leave before it's too late. I've been in hyper mode crafting weapons, but quietly. It's actually almost time for dinner, and I haven't eaten since I woke up. Being as paranoid as I am right now, I actually made a box and cut into the floor and I'm hiding all my weapons there, under the floorboards. Do you blame me? This is the time when people turn on each other, and I'm not trying to kill anyone, but still, anyone who doesn't know me would assume that I'm out to make a murder scene. I'm starving, you know, the whole escaping thing. I couldn't take my papers with me, because the kids here will come up and ask for paper so they can color, and adults ask for paper for writing a letter. I obviously would refuse, but of course everyone would hate me, _again_. Dinner rations are served until the moon is a quarter high in the sky. Lucky for me, the sun hasn't set. I'm pretty much finished with my saw blade and baseball bat weapon, but I need batteries for it to work. Everything else is ready to go. I really wanted to leave tonight. . . I'll be honest; I'm fucking scared. I'm scared of every noise I hear, every undisturbed minute that passes, and the silence. I feel like when I pay attention to those things, it makes me more insane. I hate those things simply because life as I now know it, is more unpredictable than life was before. I don't even know what I'll wake up to tomorrow, if I'll even be lucky enough to wake. I just don't _know _. . this safe heaven, doesn't feel so safe. We are sitting ducks, here. Remember that saying everybody used to say? 'Survival of the Fittest'? I don't think anyone is fit for survival, you escape if fortune favors you. Batteries or not, I'm leaving in the morning. I can't stay here, I might as well go walk up to a zombie and try to hug it. I think someone got bit, because the camp has been really eerie, and the biohazard suits haven't left the hut. I can already see it, the poor guy strapped to the table, his mouth duct-taped, and the other guys dissecting his bite. I think if I ever got bit, I'd trap myself somewhere. Think about it, if you shoot yourself, bitten or not, you're going to wake up a zombie anyway. Unless you want to chop your head off, which be my guest. I usually say the word 'zombie' freely, and the other people get so pissed. They tell me, "Go take your brutal mind somewhere else." Correct me if I'm wrong, but those kids have basically witnessed hell, and they're telling me to shut my mouth? Those kids already wander around, empty like they don't have souls anymore. The word 'dead' doesn't even make them cry; or flinch. One thing I think I miss the most, is music. I know, something so materialistic, but it's different not having the top 100's playing in every store, or those crappy songs no one listens to playing. I miss it, you know? I guess you don't. if you _are _reading this, everything is normal again, right? What am I saying? Normal? These islands will never be the same, ever again. I wonder if they will get nuked, or if the infection will die off. Obviously there isn't a cure, you can't cure death. I want to clear something up, I'm not good at staying on topic, so if you don't like me jumping around, I'm sorry but it's not time for ordering my eventful life. That was sarcasm, by the way. . .

All of a sudden someone bursted through the doors, and I jumped in surprised. I looked up to see a man forced into my hut by two of the biohazard suits. I stood up and threw my paper and pencil under my sheet. The two biohazard suits shoved the guy forward and turned to me.

"He's living with you now. He was trying to steal from camp. This hut is under surveillance. Keep an eye on him." The stranger scoffed at the biohazard suits and they swiftly walked out, closing the doors behind them. I eyed the man whom I was now watching. He straightened his leather jacket, and walked around my hut, inspecting everything. I wasn't sure what to say, but it was obvious he wasn't a part of the camp. He glanced at my 'bed' and looked at me, his eyebrow raised.

"I see this is your euh, workshop? What are you, the weapon maker?" he asked, sitting on my sheets.

"What? No! Uhm, this was how it was, before I started living in it," I lied awkwardly. What if he was brought from the other camps to spy on me? Wow listen to me, I'm paranoid. He nodded, looking at my workbench.

"Well, there are a lot of little bits here, great for weapons. You don't know how to craft a weapon, eh?"

"No," I lied again. He wore a leather jacket, black jeans, and biker boots. Seems pretty nonchalant, but I am on the fence about trusting this guy. He grinned at me, white teeth shinning at me.

"Sure, you don't. Alone in a hut with everything a weapon crafter would need. You can't be serious? You've never touched any of this? I would've fucked around with this stuff months ago. ." he trailed off, playing with a blade and electrical tape. He put them down and plopped down on my sheets again.

"So, who are you?" I asked, and he looked up at me, with a pleasant smile.

"Oh, pardon my rude manners, I'm Captain, Captain Ortega." He said matter of factly, untying his boots. "How about you, miss?"

"Oh, euh. . I'm Kendra. Cattai. Kendra Cattai." I staggered. I looked down awkwardly. It's been so long since I've had any one to talk to, especially a civil conversation. He was still smiling at me, like the world outside wasn't fucked up.

"Ah, Kendra. Australian?" he asked, setting his boots aside. I nodded in response, and he looked at my shy face.

"Are you a native?" I asked softly, wondering if that question will make him break. He shook his head, scoffing.

"Don't tell anyone, but I'm not really a captain, of anything. I am from the states, and I was a part of a biker gang. I was the leader's right hand man, for everything. We got in this war with another gang, and they tried running here, and me, the leader, and a couple of the guys followed. We didn't know they got in to trouble with the law, so when we got here, they must've thought we were hired to catch them. They ran into the forest and killed a whole tribe of the natives, an entire massacre. They were a sick gang, those men. We waited and enclosed their huts and burned them alive. We killed a good half, if not more. We chased the rest of them to a cave. Little did we know they were prepared for an ambush. Sure, they were cornered, but they had mines. Explosive, mines. All my friends got blown to bits and I saw it all. Every fucking bit. I ran off, but they chased me. We were driving in off road vehicles, and they were on my tail, until I jumped off a cliff. My vehicle almost exploded from impact, and I hit my head on the dashboard when I landed, and lucky for me my other friends found me. I suffered a major concussion. Was in a coma for 3 days. Insane. Then the next day, this shit went down."

He said, his gruff but typically normal voice turned irritated. He sighed.

"What about you, darlin?" he sighed, looking up at me.

"I lived on the island across the bay, called Banoi. The infection hit there first, and I escaped with most of the people in this camp. Then when we got here, everyone was singularly inspected. Anyone bitten was taken into secluded tents. Those yellow bastards that threw you in here, take care of the rest. I don't particularly know how long it's been since the first day, but obviously it's been a while." He nodded, taking off his leather jacket and lying it over his boots.

"Well, any family here? On camp I mean." I shook my head, sighing and sitting in front of him."

"No. When all this bullshit happened It was so chaotic I couldn't even walk the other way without being trampled by the insane crowds. I was so guilty when I got on the boat. I still don't know if they are in the other camps or not. They lived deep in the island. I doubt they made it in time, if they got the chance to leave. Anyone in the inner part on the islands were forced by the military to stay put, for safety precautions. If anyone escaped, they were mortally injured from being shot, or bitten because they didn't have weapons." I looked at the floor again, my guilt flooding my mind.

"Ah. As far as I know, the states are fine. My family and brothers are fine. I pray to god that they are, anyways. I'm not much of a holy man, there Kendra, but I think it's proper, right?" he said, charmingly. He wasn't much older than me. Late twenties for sure. Talked like a well-aged man.

"I think if I found my family, as stupid as it would've been, I would've stayed with them. I know they're dead." My voice faded away and I wanted to cry. The littlest emotions at their peak. Captain pulled me into a hug. It felt so different, but honestly, I can't even remember the last time I hugged either of my parents. It was comforting though.

"I can imagine it hurts." He sighed, releasing me. Captain Ortega was a pretty cool guy. I also think the 'Captain' makes him sound older.

"Yeah. Mind me for asking, but how old are you? You look young, but act mature. I'm confused," I said, raising my eyebrow at him. He chuckled.

"Oh, I turned 27 I think two months ago. Do you know what month it is?"

"March."

"Yeah, two months ago."

"Happy delayed birthday, Captain."


End file.
